


Secret admirer

by QueenPotatos



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimiclaude Birthday Week (Fire Emblem), M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Time Skip, day 3 : flowers, where the boys are soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25975480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPotatos/pseuds/QueenPotatos
Summary: In the last week of Garland Moon, Claude sews his first flower crown.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 75





	Secret admirer

Claude cannot fathom why most of his classmates, Golden Deers, Blue Lions and Black Eagles alike, seem so thrilled as they approach the first days of Garland Moon, when the white roses start to bloom.

“It’s a tradition.” Hilda explains briefly what is it all about, the flowers, the crowns, the girls giving them to the boy they like, and the effervescence is now even more suspect and incomprehensible for him, as they haven’t had time to meet the majority of their own promotion – how could they know, after only two moons full, who their heart belong to? Is it, once again, a difference in culture, do Fodlians take Love so _un_ -seriously that they give their heart away at the first flirt, the first stolen glance, the first arousal?

He spends the moon torn between two sides, one that asks to mend in the crowd and pick up white roses as well, which would permit him to engage conversation with people he rarely has an opportunity to talk with – such as Edelgard, for example, who is taking this tradition rather seriously judging by her basket, already full of white roses – and another part of him which refuses to go down with this most ridiculous custom. Not that he doesn’t know who might benefit from his crown, on the contrary; and this is perhaps the reason he’s so reluctant to follow his classmates in the fields surrounding Garreg Mach, to pick up flowers he’ll never give, to the only person who deserve them.

He changes his mind around the last week, on a day he had no choice but to go with Hilda, who practically blackmailed him to do so. Bored by simply looking, he helps her filling her basket with the prettiest flowers he finds when they are joined by Mercedes and Annette. Both look really excited.

“I didn’t know you have someone you fancy already.” Claude says, most happy to dig out the girls’ secret. “Who are the lucky ones?”

“Claude!” Both Hilda and Annette exclaim, outraged, while Mercedes laughs, “This is not something you ask. It’s personal!”

“But you’re supposed to give these flowers to someone you love, right? It’s not going to be a secret very long.”

Hilda rolls her eyes. “You lack sensibility. Such critical information is confidential, and especially to you, Prince of mischief.” She hits his head with a bouquet of white roses. “You’re impossible.”

“To give you a proper answer, we aren’t giving them to anymore.” Mercedes tells them, to Hilda’s surprise, “But it’s just so fun to make a crown out of flowers! I’ve done so since I was old enough to hold a needle, and Annette was so kind to do it with me since we’ve met each other.”

“We keep the flower crown in our room! It’s pretty and it smells so good!” Annette adds with enthusiasm, and they resume what they had come here for.

“Don’t listen to them.” Hilda hushes. “You’re supposed to give it to the boy you like.”

“The boy I like?!” He repeats, afraid for a second that she has seen right through him, when he is so sure he has been utterly careful not to show any sign of his attraction to-

“No, I mean for girls! Why are you so stupid today? Is that the flowers? Oh no! Claude! Don’t tell me you actually like someone?”

Claude laughs his embarrassment away and picks more flowers, as if nothing she said troubled him in any way.

He needs to stop thinking about it – about _him_ – after all it’s only been two moons and they rarely got any opportunity to speak together, alone; but each time they did – at night, in the Library, mostly – Claude had found himself stupid, truly, unable to align two coherent thoughts, too distracted by the eyes he couldn’t help but stare at. His stomach felt funny, his cheeks burned, his palms got wet and his heart beat faster in his chest. The sign of infatuation, unmistakable, and to which against all odds he isn’t immune.

The effect has been almost immediate, ‘at first sight’ some may say, and Claude foolishly thought it would go just as quickly but no, of course it didn’t, worse, it got _worse_.

He walks past the training field at the end of the day, his own basket filled with white roses; Dimitri and Felix are still in the middle of training. He halts there for a while, watching how with the increasing temperature they get sweaty and breathless perhaps a bit faster than usual. Pearls of sweat run on her forehead, cheeks and chin where they fall on the ground; Claude stares for a moment, perhaps a bit too long – definitely a bit too long – and wonders how good Dimitri would look with a flower crown on his head.

* * *

The next day they sew the flower together with Hilda, and Mercedes had been right; it’s quite fun to make, and the satisfaction once the work is done matches the one he gets after a long day of training and all his arrows hit the centre of the target. Yet, the crown feels heavier than it actually is in his hands, mostly because of the unrequired feelings he pulled into it without realizing. Dimitri, he never stopped thinking about him while sewing and he cannot understand why. Is it what a crush is supposed to feel like? The impossibility to organize his thoughts, the urgency to seek for their presence at all possible time, the smile he cannot control the moment his eyes find him in the crowd? It’s awful, oppressive, and addictive in a way – no, Dimitri is, not these ugly feelings. And the worse is that he doesn’t even know why he’s drawn to him like that. Sure, the Prince isn’t difficult to look at, and Claude has always been attracted by beauty, however it manifests itself, but Dimitri isn’t the only pretty students he had met this year, there are quite a few that objectively match his standard better, Claude is sure of it, so why? Why is he the only one that puts butterflies in his stomach every time he smiles back?

Claude hits his head with his flower crown. He has rarely felt more stupid, as he fails to resolve this most evident problem, but to which he doesn’t have the keys of.

“Claude?” It’s sunset already, and Claude sits against the wall in front of his classroom when Dimitri finds him. “Are you unwell?”

Fate couldn’t have a better timing. “Oh, Your Princeliness.” His voice tastes of honey, and he knows he overacts but he can’t help it. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it. I was just…” He gazes back at what assaulted his head a few second ago; how is he going to explain the crown?

“Oh, I see you sewed your own flower crown.”

“You didn’t?” He feels bold enough to ask; at least that way, if Dimitri’s heart is already taken by someone, perhaps his would find no more interest in him.

“Oh, hn, no I’m afraid this is not something I find any interest in. I’m not suitable for delicate things, and sewing especially is a task I cannot accomplish. I’ve broken enough needles for a lifetime.”

“Oh, really?” Claude says, amused. “How funny. But if you had been good at it, would you have made one?” And for who, lies the hidden inquiry.

This is when suddenly the air becomes awkward around them, as Dimitri stands in front of Claude who remains sit, with his crown on his lap, and in the silence none of them move, or talk, as if something prevented them from – it seems Dimitri is trying to make sense of his ask, as he cannot decide if it’s genuine or has an ulterior motive, like most of Claude’s so-called innocent inquiries.

“I don’t...think so.” Dimitri sits next to him at last, his eyes on the flower crown, “I have other topic to address that feels more important that such trivial occupation, and even if I had the time and the talent, I’d rather train or ride my horse than sew a flower crown I wouldn’t know what to do afterwards.”

Claude smiles at last, “And imagine the gossip! The Prince of Faerghus, holding a crown of white roses; who does his heart belong to?”

“But what about you Claude?” Dimitri takes his crown into his lap. “Your doing is on everyone’s lips, it got me curious enough that I had to check myself.”

“Oh, that.” Claude is glad Dimitri is too busy studying the crown to notice the blush on his face. “I’m afraid the story behind this is utterly uninteresting. Hilda forced me.”

“Is that so? You sewed it with care, for what I suspect is a first?” Claude nods, “You won’t persuade me that you didn’t pour some romantic feelings into it. Your crown is too pretty not to be given to someone your heart has a weakness for. Is it for her?”

“Her?”

“Hilda.”

Claude laughs, tension leaving his shoulders, Dimitri really has no idea – which is perhaps reassuring at the moment, but could if Claude ever feels bolder, play against him in a near future – and he breathes a bit easier with the knowledge. “Oh no, don’t worry, it’s not for her.”

“For who then?” Dimitri asks, giving the crown back.

“Why are you so curious about who my heart might belong to?” Claude replies, as he turns his face toward the object if their discussion and rests his temple against the wall.

Dimitri mimics him, their face are close, Claude bites his lips not to smile wilder and hopes his blush doesn’t show too much. “You’re someone so difficult to grasp, Claude, and I thought that finding out what kind of person you fancy might teach me more about who you truly are than the words you consent to share with the rest of us.”

It is indeed a truth Claude hasn’t thought about yet, but then what does his attraction to Dimitri reveal of his self? That he likes pretty eyes? Goddess, his eyes are the most beautiful thing he laid his gaze on.

“There might be,” he says, Dimitri doesn’t even blink, he goes on, “Someone. That I like.”

“So, you confess.” Claude tries not to notice how Dimitri appears unaffected by the news of his heart being taken, which proves he has, at the time being, no attachment to his person. “Now I wonder what kind of person might have gotten your interest. They must be quite something I assume, you wouldn’t fall for someone banal, or dull.”

“You have such a high opinion of me, Your Highness.” But he isn’t far from the truth though, Dimitri is exceptional in all ways. “I'm almost flattered.”

“Could it be the Professor?”

“What? No!” They're mystery impersonated, and perhaps Claude could have been tempted to consider them if his eyes hadn’t been already set on someone. “I’m afraid you won’t ever guess who I have some blooming feelings for, my friend.”

“Is it because I don’t know of them? Someone from the Alliance?” Claude shakes his head. “Then I’ll look forward to the day you’ll feel comfortable enough around me to put me in the confidence.”

Claude laughs, bitterly perhaps. “Maybe one day, I will.”

Dimitri seems content with the reply and offers him an honest smile. He’s about to go when Claude holds his arm. “Wait, there’s something I’d like to test.”

Claude puts the flower crown on Dimitri’s head.

“So?” Dimitri asks, his hands setting the crown better in place. “How do I look?”

Claude takes a few seconds to reply, too busy to stare at the sight, of Dimitri wearing the materialisation of his growing feelings on top of his splendid head. “You’re amazing.” He says, beautiful he wants to add, but it’s not something suited for new friends, and especially with their political position. Claude cannot let his weakness appear so soon.

“Thank you. I must admit this one feels quite comfortable, and I’m almost sad the one that suits me the best is the only one I cannot keep. I am mostly glad the moon is over in a couple of days.”

“You received a lot of them?” Claude asks.

“Plenty.” Dimitri gives the crown back. A rose falls in his lap. “I’m the heir of the throne after all, it would be inappropriate for most noble houses not to gift me with one.”

“Noble families, sending their daughters in the lion's dent, alone and unharmed.” Dimitri laughs softly, he picks the flower on his lap, and it seems for a second that he doesn’t want to let go of it. “You’re a lucky guy. I barely got any gift myself.”

“There’s nothing extraordinary in being gifted flower crowns because of your social position, which you acquire simply by being born in a family you cannot choose, and not by any means because of the person you are. Would I have not been a Prince, my head would have remained empty of flowers, most certainly.”

“I beg to differ, if you permit this of me.” This conversation needs to end before Claude reveals more of his secret.

“Thank you, my friend.” Dimitri stands up eventually, the white rose still in hand. “I wish you luck with your affair, and hope that whoever stole your attention matches your standard, in all regards.” He offers him a hand that Claude takes.

“Don’t worry about it. They are extraordinary.”

Their conversation, the proximity and comfort Claude felt during that time will stay in his memory for weeks, and he’ll cherish them until more pleasant ones will take their place.

The last night of Garland Moon, he puts the flower crown on Dimitri’s door, hanged on the door handle, hoping he won’t guess so soon who his secret admirer is.

**Author's Note:**

> As always you can follow me on twitter for more dimiclaude fic and to have a nice chat !  
> [Click here](https://twitter.com/doctor_queenie) !


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